Markiplier x Reader | The Promised Land

Chapter 9: Flashback

You didn't respond when Mark spoke. You just sat there, listening and waiting. Sure, this wasn't all that bad, you had Mark as a barrier to the potential dangers that were slowly making their way further up the building. But you couldn't help but feel vulnerable because you were unarmed.

You couldn't tell what made you more nervous. The fact that the building was swaying more than before, or the fact that you were actually getting involved in a gunfight without a weapon.

You scooted to the back of the room, watching Mark. He looked so entranced as he stared down the hallway through the scope of his gun, he looked intimidating.

Hours seemed to pass as you both waited. You knew what Mark was doing was to protect you both, but a knot had begun to form in your stomach, causing anxiety to pour out of you in waves. If only you a gun... 

The footsteps came and went in patterns, each time coming one floor closer. You counted the footsteps... They were on the second floor. You blinked, third floor. You tried to whisper something to Mark, but your voice cracked and nothing came out. You didn't try again because you didn't want the building to fall.

Fourth floor.

You felt growing dread as the steps came closer.

Fifth floor.

Chica and [P/n] growled.

Sixth floor.

You stared at Mark's belt where your pistol was.

The silence when the footsteps receded for the final time hung in the atmosphere like impending doom. It felt like everything was physically beginning to crush the air out of your lungs. Your heart sped up to an alarming rate and you began sweating bullets. You didn't even notice when [P/n] hobbled over to comfort you. Chica tried to comfort you too, sitting on the other side.

Mark must've looked back at you and noticed your change in state because he spoke, bringing you back a little, "[N/n] hang in there okay? I've done this loads of times, shouldn't be more than a breeze."

You shook your head and hugged yourself, tucking your knees up to your chest. This shouldn't be a problem, it was going to be okay. It was going to be-

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rushing footsteps, and then the loud noise.

Mark's sniper went off.

You slammed your hands over your ears as he quickly reloaded. Your ears stung as multiple gunshots went off down the hall. Everything seemed to go into slow motion. Bullets flew through the walls at lightning speed, sailing just over your head and sending dust everywhere. You fell flat on the floor, hoping you wouldn't get hit. A bullet skidded past Mark. There was blood on his cheek. Mark's sniper went off again and again, the gunfire continued and didn't relent.

You suddenly found yourself watching from a closet. The door on the other side of the room broke down as strangers came in and killed everyone standing in their way. Blood was everywhere. You watched in growing horror as your older sibling smashed out of the closet beside you, his metal bat with [f/c] markings in hand, swinging like a maniac at the monsters who broke in.

You couldn't hear anymore.

You gingerly uncovered your ears and looked up, blinking tears from your eyes. Your breath was irregular as if you had just finished a good long cry, and you saw Mark lying there, still holding his aim.

It was just a nightmare, you told yourself over and over, It was just a nightmare it was just a nightmare it was just-

You fought the tears down, trying your best to remain calm. You slowly sat back up, forcing yourself back to reality. You slapped yourself in the face a few times and you stared at the ground, watching as the last of the tears dripped from your face.

Mark had glanced back at you for a moment. He was watching you curiously. After you didn't look at him, he asked in a low voice, "Did you get hit?"

When you shook your head aggressively, he nodded, understanding, then looked back through his scope, "There's only two left," he whispered, "If I'm careful I can-"

He was interrupted by more gunshots that broke the wall inches from his head. He scooted backwards looking visibly worried. He sat back, out of view from the shooters and tossed his sniper away from himself, unconsciously towards you. He was frowning and his body was tense. He pulled out your pistol, checked to make sure it had bullets, and then began to plan, mumbling to himself.

While he was planning, his eyes widened as you both heard rushing footsteps towards the room. He moved, you moved, and it all happened in the blink of an eye.

The first one went down with the sound of your pistol, the second went down shortly after with the sound of Mark's sniper. You stared for a moment as the bodies fell before you, lifeless. After realizing what you had done, you dropped the gun and covered your mouth and silently screamed.

Voices were screaming in your head, You killed him. Murderer. How could you! He had a family. You deserved that! YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED-

You were shaking so much, with so many mixed emotions. Fear, anger, grief, sorrow, relief... That's when you noticed [P/n] aggressively snuggling her head into your arm, trying her best to comfort you and cheer you up. You pulled her into a tight hug as you started at the bodies with a blank expression. The voices in your head were deafening.

"Are you okay? What happened, did he shoot you?" came Mark's voice, it was worried and rushed, but only sounded like more unnecessary noise to you.

"J-just leave me alone!" you yelled, sniffling, "I... I just want to be alone!"

*     *     *

Mark took the bodies of the Skull Breakers out of the room and into another one further down. He moved all the bodies he could before his right leg buckled from under him. When he fell into the wall for support, to prevent himself from falling, Chica rounded the corner to check in on him.

"It's okay Bubba," he said to her softly, patting her head, "Papa just needs a good rest is all."

He briefly searched the bodies for anything useful for the time being, and took what he could before hobbling back into the room where [Y/n] was.

When he returned, [Y/n] was still there, unmoving. Still staring at the spot where the bodies had fallen. He hadn't expected them to act like this, and he didn't know what to do. Hadn't they been in a situation like this before?

He sat down a little ways away from them and began to clean the worst spots on his arms.

He winced as he pulled a large chunk of broken concrete out of his left arm and then proceeded to patch them up. When he finished, he began to watch [Y/n] with concern. He cleaned the graze on his cheek too but didn't bother patching it. He didn't want to waste precious first aid materials on a minor wound.

He sat in silence for a long while, watching and waiting. He kept his distance and was wary of how they'll react under their current condition.

It was dark outside, and had been now for at least an hour. So much had happened in just two days, it was overwhelming. But it was amazing what the body could do under adrenaline.

Slowly, he took his sniper out of reach from [Y/n], and then held Chica for a while.

After [Y/n] finally fell asleep, Mark moved and sat down near the doorway to keep watch. He didn't want to sleep for various reasons, despite his desperate need to. He needed to watch for intruders anyways... and he didn't like how his mind worked when he slept.